Wednesday, September 13, 2006

[Untitled]

Tongue thrust out like a leafslapped down by an invisible palmand wanting, unreleased static sizzles in its stem.

For a poet of moist particulars, silica abstraction yields insipid sophistryand the taste of burnt wire.

With no on one to decipher a telegraph in transit,its caternary undulationslead inexorably to ground.

[Author's note: The first stanza is always the hardest to substantially revise or cut when it contains the impetus for a poem that has wandered far afield of its promise, such as it is. There's a connection here between those first lines and the rest, which plainly cohere more closely with the first stanza excluded, but I don't know what it is or how to draw it out. As for the title, I want something that spells out S____ O___ S___, but nothing comes to mind. Gah, I've grown lazy even in this.]

i'd be a fool ever to deny eliot as an influence. it wasn't a conscious choice or a deliberate allusion, but i've long been enthralled with the quartets, so i wouldn't be surprised if that's got something to do with something. thanks for the observation.